


On-the-job Training

by Oft



Category: Tron: Uprising
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oft/pseuds/Oft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An impromptu tussle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On-the-job Training

Sita held her position as Dyson conferred with Tesler, or rather, looked down on Tesler while tlaking. The general in charge of Argon was decidedly unhappy about yet another visit from Clu’s highest officer. Currently, her only duty was to keep an eye on Tesler’s men, not so much look for outside trouble. Touble had yet to disturb her quiet duty, and she suspected that would continue to be the case. Tesler’s men however were unexpended energy, occasionally shifting nervously at the echo of raised voices from the two commanding officers. At some point, a call must have come through the local comm- several guards filed off in a hurry, leaving Tesler and Dyson silent for a moment before Tesler rattled off something and gestured his own lieutenants off to see to the commotion.

Dyson stood motionless for long nanocycles, then Tesler himself turned on heel with a barely restrained sneer. Another moment of quiet study, and Dyson gesured his attachment into motion.

‘Follow, not too closely. Not you.’ He snapped at Sita as she turned to comply to his previous order, motion stuttering in midhalt as she looked his direction. He hadn’t turned to face her; instead he was focused on the far end of the deck, watching his own attatchment rush off. His poise was focused, one hand behind his back, face locked into tight concentration. 

‘Sir?’ She had froze in place.

‘Come with me.’ He abruptly started following the length of the deck towards the lifts as well. She had to run to catch up. Sita was continually surprised at how much quicker he was than her, even from a dead stop. He had no issues with catching up to programs that had a head start on him in any scenario, though the last time that quickness had leant to the brutal scattering of several programs’ voxels all over herself and others. One lift remained at deck level, and they both piled into it without hesitation.

It began its descent, then Dyson punched the side of his fist against the panel, stalling its journey, then he was on her. She yelped as she was slammed against the wall, his hands immediately curling in her hair and pulling her head to the side as he pressed against her. She was taller, but it was only leverage for him as he bit at the junction of skin under her jaw where the suit didn’t cover. Reflexively she grabbed at his hands, but only earned a sharp twist to the floor where he straddled her. She continued to strike his hands away till his knees tightened against her ribcage and he growled a warning once he had her wrists. Freezing up, she stared at him. His lights were blazing bright- no good ever came of resisting his heightened moods- and she forced herself to slump in his grip.

A small smirk flashed across his face, and he leaned forward, taking her mouth roughly with his. His hardness managed to press right into the center divot of her chestplate, and he rocked against her as she shifted under his weight. 

‘Keep fighting.’ His small words, breathed into her mouth, caught her off guard, but she reacted. She curled her body up, wrapping her knees around his shoulders and clamping hard, pulling him off balance as she uncurled and forced him back. He didn’t let go of her hands, and the momentum brought her crashing back up against him. She twisted her torso and wedged an elbow between then, wresting one wrist free, but he brought his arm around to curl just at her throat. She ducked and dodged it, rolling her body aside under his, bucking and sliding him off against the wall. He still had one hand though, and he had bounced his stance upright immediately, grabbing at one of her knees as she turned.

Sita was immediately braced against him, one leg tucked around the crook of his arm as he clamped it tight, his hand curled with fingers dug in under her thigh plate. He had never lost grip of her wrist in the meantime. She wrenched it, trying to slide loose while dropping her weight. The balance shifted to the side, and she slammed her opposing knee against his ankle, bringing him down on top, then over. She straightened her locked leg upwards, shaking Dyson off while shuffling her body out of his impact zone. He rolled down over his shoulder and onto his back, but immediately hitched his legs up and over to roll back. His momentum aborted her own attempt to dodge, and he landed right onto her ribs again, then slid his leg over her torso, rolling onto his feet and yanking hard on her arm to pull her up. She swung her other arm up, pistoning it straight ahead as she tried standing, and made contact with Dyson’s jaw. His head shot back from the impact, honest shock spreading over his features, and he let go of her wrist. He staggered back a step while shaking his head, then reached up to check his jaw.

She stood, bracing herself against the lift wall opposite fron Dyson while his hand cradled his jaw. His expression slowly shifted from shock to daze to a delighted sneer.

‘You were definitely a good pick.’ He punched the lift panel again, continuing it’s journey as he leaned against the wall, much more relaxed now, lights settling down from the blaze of before.

‘Thank you, sir.’


End file.
